Of Spray-Painting and Red Flowers
by ClassicLassitudeCacoethes
Summary: As he clutched his chest in an attempt to calm his pounding heart, he half-yelled back," CONFOUND YOU, verdammt!" "Confound who, Gilbert?" Said man froze.


**_赤い花 Red Flower_**

_Prompt 2: Spray-painting the car  
__Ship: PruHun! Ft. France, England, America, Austria_

**Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia.**

**A/N:**  
**Apologies for the choppy pace and any typos (Classic typed out most of it for me :P) And I am regrettably far too lazy to italicize what should be italicized.  
This is exactly what I meant when I said (in my profile) my fics are always general in general.  
Still. I can't believe I did this. I need to get this out before I enter a state of self-doubt about my writing capabilities and destroy this piece forever.**

**PruHun seriously needs more love. (If you're looking for the somewhat fluffy parts, skip right to about 3/4 near the end.)**  
**Please don't pelt me with frying pans. —Lassitude**

* * *

It was on a starless night that Gilbert Beilschmidt finally decided to put his plan into action. For weeks he had been thinking up ways to prank Roderich—for no apparent reason other than the fact that the man was an utter pansy—and when he'd eventually come up with the 'perfect plan', he couldn't stop replaying how he would go about pulling it off without a hitch in his mind. And fantasizing about Roderich's reaction, of course.

The latter had succeeded in causing him a little trouble though; Ludwig had rushed into his bedroom in the middle of the night because he'd heard "terrible cackling noises" and wanted to know if "_bruder_ was alright". Gilbert had had a bit of a hard time getting out of that sticky situation, but he didn't care much for it anyway. It had been arduous, coming up with a plan like that. There was only so much that a student like him on campus could do that he could get a kick out of but wasn't illegal all _that _illegal. So in the end, Gilbert chose spray-painting Roderich's brand new Porsche. Nothing that transgressed 'acceptable boundaries' as the school liked to say, but fun enough for him. The expression on Roderich's face when he'd see his sleek white car decorated with gay flowers (perfect for a pansy like him) would be _priceless._

And thus it was with great stealth that Gilbert slipped into the campus parking lot under the cover of the night. He was aware that Roderich taught some of the juniors from the Strings Ensemble how to play lame classical pieces on the piano or something every Friday night, and capitalized on this golden opportunity. Night-time gave him the cover he needed, plus the school would be pretty much empty so he could save himself the trouble of other students strolling out of the building _en masse_ and catching him in the act.

Gilbert tiptoed over to the white Porsche gingerly. It was one of the few vehicles in the parking space; Gilbert was certain the other vehicles belonged to the juniors Roderich was teaching. He sniggered to himself. _Either that or nerds who refuse to leave the school unti—_

"Calm down, Arthur!"

The albino practically dived (headfirst) behind Roderich's car, narrowly missing slamming his head against the car bumper. He could recognise that silky smooth, French-accented voice _anywhere._

"Shut up, Francis! I'm trying to think here!" Angry British voice and angry footsteps. Speak of the _nerd_.

There came the sound of hurried chomping of a hamburger, followed by a "What were you thinking about again?"

"_Ange_ was pondering about whether la—"

"-laser stands for light amplification by simulated emission of radiation or light amplification by simulation of emitted radiation!"

Silence ensued and Gilbert scrunched his face up in disgust. Also, his hiding spot was getting pretty uncomfortable.

He heard Francis break the silence with a sigh. "Come on , let's go back to the hostel, you guys."

The sound of their footsteps (and Alfred's hamburger chomping) slowly grew softer and softer with Gilbert felt it safe to escape from his spot. Then Arthur suddenly yelled "CONFOUND IT!" in the distance, which sent Gilbert into a state of cardiac arrest instantaneously.

As he clutched his chest in an attempt to calm his pounding heart, he half-yelled back," CONFOUND YOU, verdamnt!"

"Confound who, Gilbert?"

Said man froze.

He hadn't expected her arrival. Well to be fair he _had_, but being the obnoxious and careless person he was, of course he just threw caution to the wind and carried on with his plan.

Slowly, Gilbert turned around to face the owner of that voice.

Elizaveta Hedervary stood there, an unamused expression set on her face. She didn't need to ask to know Gilbert was there for mischief. The red spray-paint can in his hand only served to confirm her thoughts.

She rested a hand against her forehead in exasperation. Gilbert was so immature. "Do you have too much free time on your hands or something?"

Gilbert flashed Elizaveta his trademark grin. Conversations were the best way to break tension. "Indeed I do," he replied.

"Huh. Idle hands sure are the devil's tools."

"Idle hands might want to touch you."

Elizaveta flushed at this latest... flirtatious comment, while Gilbert took much satisfaction in her reaction. Nevertheless he felt a twinge of sadness within him - he hadn't seen much of Elizaveta, much less spoken to her, ever since she'd started going out with that stupid pansycake. It had been lingering, like a part of him wasn't there. Even if he and Elizaveta were finally meeting again under _these _sort of circumstances, Gilbert couldn't deny it - he was truly, _truly, _happy about it.

The brunette coughed to regain her composure before staring pointedly at Gilbert once more. "I know what you're going to do," She spoke sharply, "so I suggest you stop before you start, _Gilbert." Divert attention divert attention._

_Gilbert._ It sounded like she had spat the word forcefully. The corners of his lips turned down slightly. Where were the days when she had called him 'Gil'?

"Yeah right."

And just like that, Gilbert gave the can a vigorous shake and red paint went spraying onto the shiny white car.

Elizaveta's jaw dropped. She should've known this would happen! She should've snatched the can while she could! "You-you _idiot!_" She gasped, as Gilbert continued to draw gay flowers coolly.

"Kesesesese!" He chuckled, pausing momentarily to admire his work of art, which happened to be three red flowers spray-painted onto the Porsche at the moment. Elizaveta looked as though she was going to faint any second.

"How can you laugh into this kind of situation?"

"Why not? At least I actually laugh, unlike _some_ people!"

"Roderich laughs too, okay? He just laughs like a noble!"

"Heh, that pansy wouldn't laugh even if I shoved nitrous oxide down his throat!"

"That constitutes as _murder, _you twit."

Gilbert snorted in indifference. Pressing the nozzle of the can again, he proceeded with his work of art. Elizaveta grabbed his arm. "Stop it."

It pissed him off that she was trying to protect Roderich so much, even after they had broken up a couple of months ago.

She never treated _him _in the same manner.

Gilbert resisted, as Elizaveta tried to pull his arm away. Red paint continued to be sprayed onto the car. He knew Elizaveta was strong for a female, so there was only one way out of this.

Before she knew it, Gilbert suddenly stopped resisting. In a fraction of a second Gilbert's arm flew outwards—right in the direction of Elizaveta's face.

A rapid chain of events followed: Elizaveta yelped as the red paint sprayed all over her face, tried to avoid the paint but ended up tripping over Gilbert's left foot, crashed her elbow against the car and ended up collapsing in a heap on the ground. Whereas Gilbert, naturally, stood right where he had been in an awesome stance with the same awesome smile on his face. "_Oops."_

Of course, his awesome demeanour fell apart the second he lay his eyes on Elizaveta.

"L-liz! Your f-face!" Tears were forming in his eyes as he roared with laughter and gasped for breath simultaneously.

Elizaveta wiped at her face frantically but to no avail. "This is your fault!" She hissed.

"My bad," Gilbert admitted through snickers as he pulled her up from the ground. "C'mon, you can let off some steam too." He handed her the can of spray-paint, much to her bewilderment.

"Wha- I can't do this to Roderich's car!"

"Aaah," Gilbert drawled, "remember the time when he threw away your precious _yaoi_ manga collection?"

His provocation yielded results. Her hand clenched around the spray-can visibly. Gilbert _swore _he saw a dent in the metal.

A menacing aura suddenly enveloping her, Elizaveta growled, "...My...R-21...collection..." and without another moment of hesitation, jammed the nozzle down with ferocity. Red paint spewed onto the poor vandalised car, marring Gilbert's smallest flower.

"That's not how you do it!"

Instinctively Gilbert reached out from behind Elizaveta and grabbed her hand, wrapping his own hand around hers. His body pressed against her back gently as he guided her in maneuvering the can carefully, slowly, to the paint the perfect flower.

Elizaveta was aware of the sudden rise in temperature - it was either Gilbert's body heat or her own face burning up. _Dear hand, please do not tremble. _She had to confess, the instant Gilbert's hand had come into contact with hers, a frisson of excitement had shot down her spine. The way his large, calloused hand seemed to have this perfect grip on her dainty, smooth one made her feel strangely-and-idiocy vibes.

Through the back of her rayon blouse and his thin cotton shirt, Elizaveta felt the warmth of his lean body permeate her skin. Were those muscles she felt? It felt like a six part, at least. She recalled the times in middle school when they'd play-fight in T-shirts and shorts and how he'd whine about getting soaked in the guys. Long gone was that wimpy Gilbert; he had changed a lot over the course of a few years.

Elizaveta looked down at her own maxi skirt.

They'd _both _changed a lot.

...But maybe their feelings for each other hadn't.

A chilly breeze rippled in the air. Gilbert inhaled the scent of his childhood friend's hair, a sweet blend of flowers and something else distinctly Elizaveta. As he turned his head ever so slightly such that the tip of his nose was barely grazing her brown tresses, he realised that he was almost an entire head taller than her, which meant that her head was more or less nestled in the crook of his neck.

Gilbert wanted to run his fingers through her hair and press his chapped lips against her thin ones. He wanted to slide his other hand around her wait and pull her in for a tight embrace. He wanted to whisper in her ear, to let her know that _she was the one for him. _Yet...

A rueful smile spread across his face, his facial features softening in sadness. If Elizaveta's heart belonged with someone else, then he would try to snatch her back _over his dead body. _She deserved happiness and a man who could give her that.

Gilbert had, a long time ago, began to come to terms with the fact that this man wasn't going to be him.

At the very least, he hoped that right there and then, in that very transient moment they shared, their connected heartbeat would convey to her everything that he wanted to say since he had come clean with himself about how he truly felt about her:

That he loved her.

That he would always be there for her.

That she would forever be number one in his heart, no matter who she would eventually end up with.

A tiny tear escaped the corner of his eye and slid down the contours of his well-defined cheekbone.

_Damned tear ducts._

If only this would last for eternity, then he would never have to let go of her -

"Liz? Is that you over there? And is that Gilbert?"

Both perpetrators jolted, breaking away from each other sharply.

The Prussian gritted his teeth. Too bad his 'eternity' had been severed by **The Return of the Pansy**. Seriously, what an *ss he was, ruining the whole atmosphere like that.

"Well then," Gilbert reverted back to his impish self. "Time to jet before Mr Fancypants sees us." Elizaveta nodded, glad that the red paint on her face was hiding her blush.

He pulled on his hood and made his way to the exit briskly - except he'd only taken two measly steps when Elizaveta squeaked and yanked his jacket, nearly causing him to fall backwards.

"...the heck, Liz?!"

"I...I think I sprained my ankle."

It was then that Gilbert felt the urge to facepalm. They were criminals on the run (from Roderich, at least) now; they didn't have time for this!

He settled for an exasperated gaze. "I could just leave you behind..."

"Don't you dare, Gilbert Beilschmidt! Especially with my face like this!" In all honesty Elizaveta wasn't entirely sure if she was referring to the blush or paint on her face.

The click-clack of Roderich's fancy shoes on the ground was growing increasingly audible.

Gilbert decided he could afford to spend a bit more time on this, only so he could savour teasing her. "_Hmm, _you could just say you had a massive nosebleed 'cos you were having a makeout session with the awesome me." He leaned in closer towards her for effect, showing off his pearly white teeth with a smug grin.

Elizaveta's face turned an even deeper shade of red as she attempted (fruitlessly) to bat him away with her hand. This sent Gilbert chuckling away, albeit in a relatively suppressed sort of way.

Finally he relented. "Okay, here we go!" Catching her unawares, Gilbert carried her up on his back. holding on to her legs.

"Oh my goodness Gilbert!"

"Hold on tight, Liz," he said while Elizaveta obliged, slipping her arms around his neck. "Or you just might fall..."

The two of them took off. Gilbert tore out of the place in no time despite carrying Elizaveta on his back (or was it because he was carrying her on his back?), laughing all the way. Elizaveta appeared to be having a whale of a time too, shouting "faster, faster!" as they sped off into the night.

And as Gilbert turned his head to look at Elizaveta as he continued to sprint, their eyes met - his fiery red ones and her sparkling green ones - and that mutual feeling between them was all he needed to keep running forth, even if it meant running a hundred miles more.

Softly, very softly, did he finish his statement from before.

"..._for me_."

* * *

**A/N:**  
**WHO KNOWS WHAT LASER ACTUALLY STANDS FOR? (no Googling!) :D I'll give you imaginary chocolate-mint cookies if you get it right.  
P.S. I have nothing against pansies. Or flowers.**


End file.
